


Music of the night

by m_findlow



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28802790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_findlow/pseuds/m_findlow
Summary: Ianto makes the most of an evening at home.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Kudos: 13
Collections: fic_promptly Fills 2016





	Music of the night

A night off. An unheard of rarity. Could there really be no work left for them to do? Of course there was; there always was. But tonight the world didn't seem to be ending and the paperwork would still be there tomorrow. Better to enjoy the moment while it lasted.

Surveying the house, Ianto noted it was remarkably clean. It made sense, since neither of them had been here long enough to make a mess. Even the oven was clean, the laundry hamper empty, and the bookshelf still alphabetically arranged. There was truly nothing that needed doing. It almost felt wrong.

He toed off his shoes and padded over to the living room, perusing a shelf full of CDs, finding one he wanted and slipping in into the player, twisting up the volume. The soft sound began to filter through the room - low trumpet, gentle piano, the sultry sound of jazz. Satisfied, he turned it up a little louder, letting it flow out into the adjoining rooms.

He began pulling items from the fridge laying them on the counter, carefully chopping and dicing, a gentle rhythm in time with the music. The kitchen was soon full of the smell of browning onions and lamb, garlic and thyme and rosemary. When had they last had time for a properly prepared meal? A hearty lamb casserole seemed just the thing for a night in. Jack would be home sometime later, promising that he just had a few more things to tidy up, but that Ianto shouldn't wait for him.

Adding tomato and red wine to the casserole dish, he poured more of the luscious red liquid into a glass for himself. It was incredibly indulgent, and he really should wait for Jack, but so far it was panning out to be that kind of night.

With the casserole in the oven, he stepped into the living room, glass in hand and stood there, eyes closed, just enjoying the music for a moment, letting it wash over him, soothing and relaxing. He began to sway involuntarily to its hypnotic rhythm, letting it soak into his soul, wrapping him up in its sound like a blanket.

Then he felt warm arms wrap around his waist and soft lips press against his own. He hadn't heard Jack come in, too lost in the moment. He felt Jack's hand prise the glass from his own, setting it down, taking his hand back and kissing it, before letting go, freeing his hands to wrap around Jack's neck. He never once opened his eyes, letting their bodies come together by instinct, allowing Jack guide him. Not a word was spoken, nor did it need to be, each of them so finely attuned to the other; their needs implicitly understood, both of them slow dancing to the music of the night. Whatever else the night held for them didn't matter.


End file.
